It’s dark—and I like it

Manong and I wake up to the sound of silence. Nothing stirs outside; you wouldn’t realize this place is a city from our hotel window. At 7 am, the streets are dark and gloomy, with very few serious-looking people in thick down jackets and raincoats walking on the streets. The cars move silently and obediently, like the drivers were on a crucial driving test. The tires on the road give off a swooshing sound that stimulates hibernation in this winter climate: 1 degree Celsius, with light rain. 

The contrast startles me each time I’m in foreign land. I’m used to the sound of clanging pots, radio music from the eighties and nineties, and Brigada News FM about yet another road accident, punctuated by dogs barking and  aunties chatting outside as they sweep dried leaves off the street. 

In Lugano, in this southernmost canton of Switzerland, very close to the Italian border, the phrase, “in the dead of winter,” now takes on a deeper meaning. The place looks empty, sleepy, gloomy, drab even — but I like it. 

I wash my face and head to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, where we are two of the four people eating.